


Where There's A Will

by apisdn



Series: Where There's A Will [1]
Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Abelard is Done With This Shit, But that's brief, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Halt is Confused, Hurt/Comfort, What even is parenting?, no family is complete without Knives(tm), will is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:27:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24728953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apisdn/pseuds/apisdn
Summary: A young and highly undomesticated Will finds a weird man in the woods, and decides to be friends. Halt (eventually) finds (another) son (though he'd never admit it).
Relationships: Halt O'Carrick & Will Treaty
Series: Where There's A Will [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788037
Comments: 35
Kudos: 127





	Where There's A Will

It had been about a month since Halt’s last gathering with his apprentice, when he’d put a silver leaf on his chest and said goodbye. His little Gil, who he had loved like a son was gone and in his place was a twenty-one year old man, a Ranger in his own right independent of Halt. Halt was so proud of him, but at the same time he missed him so much. It was like a missing limb that one expected to be there. Halt could not count the times in the last month that he’d turned to Gilan to say something, or drew in breath to yell at his apprentice for being late. Multiple times he’d found himself preparing enough food for two, or idly picking out training schedules. It was awful, and Halt, who preferred not to think about feelings on the best of days, just really wished that the whole mess of maudlin thoughts and missing apprentice would just stop.

The world did not follow his wishes, however, and instead he was forced to follow the old Ranger practice of shooting his feelings away. Every morning, he fell into the motions of practice like they were an old set of boots, and let the familiar twang-thunk of an arrow being shot into its target over two hundred meters away become the only thing he thought about. It was the same thing he’d done every morning for going on twenty years now, and the routine was ingrained into him right next to the instincts that said sleep and eat.

How depressing his life had become. Sleep, eat, shoot. That was, of course, discounting his lonely patrols of the fief, report reading, and the occasional mission further afield. He almost wanted something bigger to come up just so he’d have something to do.

Suddenly, the twang-thunk was replaced with a twang-crack. One of his arrows had shot into the shaft of a previous arrow. It was a rare occurrence, and annoying. It meant that Halt would have to make more arrows. Unfortunately there was nothing to be done about it. When you shoot multiple projectiles into a space less than an inch wide, they will eventually overlap. It’s inevitable. That did not make it more convenient.

Halt finished his set, the last of the forty arrows he’d brought out that morning twanging into its place in the target on the left. Then he went to gather his arrows from each of the seven targets he’d been shooting.

When he yanked out the split arrow with another embedded into it, he heard a sudden and distinct gasp coming from behind him.

Halt whirled around. His hands were full of arrows, but if they hadn’t been his saxe would have been up and prepared to launch through the air towards the… small boy? Who’d somehow managed to sneak up on him extraordinarily closely?

“You shot an ARROW, into an ARROW!?” exclaimed the tiny boy. “That is the BEST thing I have ever SEEN.”

Halt was, understandably, confused. He was fairly sure that the common people's beliefs about Rangers generally kept them away from him, and though the occasional curious teenager had been known to approach his house on a dare, it wasn’t like he got many visitors, particularly not any like the tiny creature he was at that very moment faced with. “Are you lost?” he asked. It was the only explanation he could think of for how a small boy had ended up a full mile away from Castle Redmont and the surrounding town.

“Nooooooooo” said the boy, drawing out the word for several seconds. “I was curious.”

Halt raised an eyebrow. “And so you wandered off barely a half hour after dawn to the woods a mile away from any other people?”

“There was a cart.” said the boy, pointing to the road that ran into the forest a few hundred meters to the south.

“You were curious about a cart.” said Halt flatly.

“Nuh Uh.” said the boy in a tone that made it clear to Halt that he should already know this. “It's just that Horace said that a monster that eats people lived here, but Horace is an idiot so nothing he says counts.”

“A monster that eats people?” said Halt, amused by the spooky mythos that the village children had obviously come up with to explain why their parents had told them not to come out this way.

“Well you’re not.” said the boy, impatiently. “I already said Horace is an idiot.”

“I see.” said Halt, who did not in fact see. His surprise had worn off enough though that he could start putting his arrows away, and unstringing his bow.

“So, if you’re not a monster what are you?” asked the boy. “I don’t think I’ve ever met somebody like you.”

“You wouldn’t have.” said Halt. “I’m a Kings Ranger. There's only one in every fief. Our job is to protect people.”

“Oh! Like a knight, but better!” said the little boy. For that statement, Halt decided he liked him. “So what’s your name.” asked the boy.

Halt had finished packing up, and it was now time to go in and make breakfast. “It’s Halt. I am the Ranger Halt.” he said.

Then he walked into his house, assuming that that would be the end of it. Unfortunately, the love of fresh air that generally caused him to leave his door open most summers worked against him, and he was followed. The boy just walked in without even considering asking permission, then hopped up on a stool by Halts kitchen table. “Just Halt?” he asked. “With no other name?” he seemed rather excited about that.

“Yes.” said Halt. “Just Halt.”

“Whoa.” said the boy. “Me too! I mean, I only got one name too!” then he leaned on his elbows on the table and continued while he watched Halt chop an onion with his saxe. “It’s Will.” he said. “Horace says that I don’t have a second one ‘cuz my parents didn’t want me.” he seemed a little sad about that, and Halt felt a sudden and distinct need to nip that emotion at the bud.

“I thought you said Horace is an idiot.” he said.

“Yeah.” said the boy, Will. “So what he says doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it doesn’t. After all, I only need one name.” said Halt.

Will brightened like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. Halt couldn’t help a tiny smile from creeping up on the corner of his mouth at the sight of it. “Good point.” said Will. “Can I touch your knife when you’re done? It’s very blue.”

When Halt finished chopping the onion, and scraped it into a pan, he did not stop to think about how young children probably shouldn’t be around knives. “Don’t touch the edge.” he said. “You already know it’s sharp.”

Will nodded solemnly, and Halt cracked three eggs into his pan of onion and last night's potatoes which he then turned to the pot-bellied stove to cook, sparing a moment to see if the coffee was ready yet.

When he’d finished his cooking, he turned around, and saw that Will was trying to balance the saxe on his fingers. He was biting his tongue adorably in concentration, and Halt smiled a tiny bit more. “It’s weighted for throwing,” he said. “That’s why it balances so well.”

“Ooh.” said Will. Then he renewed his balancing efforts.

“Have you eaten breakfast yet?” asked Halt.

“No.” said Will, still absorbed in the knife.

Halt got two plates. He still hadn’t quite got used to cooking for one, so there was extra anyway. At least, that’s what he told himself.

Will ate his small portion with gusto, all the while chattering endless questions to Halt, mostly about the contents of his cabin, Rangers in general, and about Halt himself. The best moment was when he asked about Halt’s coffee. “What are you drinking?” he asked.

“It’s coffee,” said Halt.

“It smells really good. Can I try it?” asked Will. “Unless it’s a grownup drink. Matron Mora says we aren’t to drink grown up drinks.”

“It’s pretty bitter.” warned Halt. “A lot of people don’t like it because of that. My old apprentice only likes it with a lot of milk or cream.”

“I’ll try it anyway.” said Will decisively after only a moment of thought. “And then I’ll put milk in it.” then he drained the milk already in his mug and handed it to Halt.

Halt poured him a small measure of coffee in his mug and gave it to Will. Then he waited, and contemplated that this should be almost as good as the old Ranger joke of not giving apprentices wrist guards until they’d already tried to shoot their bow.

Wills face, all scrunched up from the bitterness of the drink was actually better than the wrist guard joke. “I was right.” he said, his little mouth bunched up into distaste. “There will need to be milk.

The milk was provided quickly, and Will sipped happily on the concoction that Halt refused to call coffee since it was barely ten percent coffee. “That’s better.” said Will. “Now it tastes like it smells.”

Once breakfast had been accomplished, Halt filled the dish bucket with water, and cleaned all the dishes. Then he handed them to Will, who had hopped up onto the table with a drying cloth looking very serious. As they finished the process, Will began to buzz with excitement. Halt wondered vaguely if it was the coffee, or if Will was simply anticipating something. He also wondered if children should drink coffee in the first place.

“Do you remember how you said that your knives were for throwing? Could you show me that? Pleeeeeease.” said Will.

Halt pretended to consider it, though he already knew he would end up doing whatever the little boy wanted. “I was planning on replacing the arrows I ruined this morning.” he said.

“What if I helped you, and then after you could throw your knife?”

Halt relented with a nod. Will’s eyes had gone all enormous like a baby deer, and he didn’t think he could handle any outbursts, so he just got the gluepot, arrowheads, fletching, and shafts, and went out on the porch.

Contrary to what he’d said, Will was not helpful at all, and the short task of creating two new arrows to replace those damaged morphed into a two hour long tutorial on how to attach fletching to an arrow without ruining the supplies, Halt’s trousers, the porch, Will’s hair or anything else. Finally, when Halt was satisfied that Will wasn’t going to tangle all of the suet again, he settled down to fletch his own arrows in relative peace while Will played with his arrow, which was the one he had ‘helped’ with.

When Halt had finished his arrows, he felt a tugging on the edge of his cloak. He looked down, and found a slightly sticky Will offering him the arrow they’d made. It now sported about nine feathers carefully fletched in random places all up and down its sides.

“I put more feathers on so it can go very far.” said Will.

If someone had come along and wasted so many of Halt’s good fletching feathers in any other circumstances, he would likely have been very angry. As it was, he felt uncomfortably tender, and wondered if he hadn’t caught something. He was probably due for a check up with Aralds physik anyway... “Thank you Will. It is very nice.” he said. “Next time, only put feathers on the end though. That way, it will fly just the same as all of the other arrows.”

“Oh,” said Will. He looked a little sad that his arrow was wrong.

“It is the prettiest arrow I’ve ever seen, even if it isn’t the same.” said Halt.

Will grinned at him.

Halt put away all of the arrow making supplies before going back out to throw knives. If he ended up keeping the arrow in his desk with his most precious belongings for years afterward, he would never tell anybody, especially not Will, who was at the moment hyperly scampering between him and the tree he was using as a target, returning his knives to him and then requesting locations on the tree to throw into. It wasn’t anyone's business.

\----------------------------------------------

“What are all those papers for?” asked Will.

Halt cracked an eye open to peer at him from his position reclining on the porch taking a short break from reading the reports that had just come in from the rest of the corps. For a second he wondered how Will had gotten so close without him noticing, then dismissed the thought. Over the past several weeks since he’d met him, the boy had displayed an almost uncanny talent for sneaking. “They’re to tell me what's going on everywhere else in the country.” he finally said, responding to the question.

Will hopped up onto the porch and examined the papers. “That is a lot of words. Do you really need to read all of it?”

“Yes.” said Halt. “It’s important for Rangers to know what's going on, so we can know what to do about it.”

“What to do?” asked Will.

“If you don’t know what a problem is, you won't be able to fix it. Knowing what's happening, and what to do about it is the most important thing I do.”

“Like how you always go out on your horse to find out what's happening in the fief?” asked Will.

“Exactly.” said Halt. “All of the other Rangers do that in the other fiefs, and in other countries sometimes, and then we share what we know with each other, and with the Barons and the King.”

“And then you fix all of the problems,” said Will, with the utmost confidence.

“Yes,” said Halt. “We do fix problems.”

Will shuffled the papers thoughtfully. “It's still a lot of papers,” he said. “They should make a way so you don’t have to read.”

“And why would I want that?” asked Halt.

“Reading is hard,” said Will. “Matron Mora is trying to teach us, but Horace keeps smashing the wax on my tablet so it looks like I didn’t do it. And it's sooo boring.” With that pronouncement, he flopped himself full length on the porch, stretched out like a cat.

“There are a lot of more interesting things,” said Halt, “but you wont get to do them unless you also do the boring ones.”

“I don’t get to do anything interesting,” said Will. “Just learning boring stuff.”

“Hmm.” said Halt. “Tell me, do you know how to read a map.”

“No.” said Will. “Why would I want to?”

“Because then you can go to the places on the map without getting lost.” said Halt, already reaching for the map of Araluen he’d gotten out to compare with one of the reports.

Will looked skeptical. “Can’t you just ask for directions?” he asked.

Halt raised an eyebrow. “And what if you get lost following them?” he asked.

“Then you ask someone else?” said Will.

“And what if nobody knows? Or what if nobody’s around?”

“Then…” said Will, trailing off. Then he sighed. “You use the map.” he said.

Halt couldn’t help barking out a short laugh. “But what if you can’t read?” he said.

Will sighed even harder, this time with his whole body for effect. “Then you ask very nicely for somebody to teach you how.” he said.

Halt looked at Will expectantly.

“Halt will you tell me how to read maps?” asked Will, after a few seconds pause engineered to show that he still wasn’t entirely on board with that plan, and was doing it under protest.

“Why yes, Will, I would be delighted to,” said Halt.

Halt rolled out the map on the porch, and levered his body down to sit beside it, and besides Will. “Let’s start by finding home.” he said. “This whole area is Araluen, and the cut up bits like these are fiefs.”

Will nodded, and scanned his eyes over the map. “Redmont is somewhere in the middle, right?” he asked.

“Not really.” said Halt. We’re sort of in the southwest.”

“Southwest?” asked Will.

“Look over here, do you see this thing?” said Halt pointing to the compass rose. “That’s to tell you what direction things are in. The N is north, S is south, E is east, and W is west.”

“So southwest is…” said Will, looking closely, “That section.” he said.

“Yes.” said Halt. “Another clue is that we have a lot of forests.”

“So it’s one of the ones with a lot of dark green?” asked Will.

Halt nodded, and there was silence for a few seconds. Then Will let out a cry of delight and pointed to Redmont on the map.

“Look Halt, it says Redmont right here!” he said.

“It does,” said Halt. “Now, how would you get to Castle Araluen--the big gold star in the King’s Fief?”

Will found it and used his finger to trace the marked roads. He found several ways. “I think I would go along that one,” he said, pointing to the one through Seacliff Fief.

“Why that one?” asked Halt.

“It’s by the ocean. I always wanted to see the ocean.” said Will.

“Oh really?” said Halt. “But does that mean it’s the best one?” he asked.

Will was stumped. “Well, I don’t really know a lot about them, so I just kind of picked.”

Halt smiled. He’d now gotten exactly what he wanted. “Hmm.” he said, reaching up and getting his papers to sort through. “The three roads you saw go through three different fiefs on the way to the capitol. Seacliff, Marborough, and Tellwood fief. Tellwood is mostly forest, like us, Seacliff is full of orchards and fishermen, and Marborough is one of the best fiefs for grain farms.”

“Oh,” said Will. He looked back down at the map. “Which one’s better?”

“Think Will, what time of year is it?” said Halt.

“It’s almost the harvest!” said Will. “So the one with farms and the one with orchards is going to be full of people. I would go on the forest one then.”

“Certainly you would have less problems finding places to stay, since there would be room in the inns, but Tellwood has a lot of problems too.”

Will sighed. “What are those then?” he asked, resigned.

“Let me tell you.” said Halt, picking up the report that had come out of Tellwood. Then he read part of it out loud. “Baron Gregory has died, succeeded by the now Baron Tristan, who is only eight years old. Until he comes of age, he has appointed a Steward called Malcolm Ungus. Steward Ungus has decreased the hunting allowance by one animal per family and increased taxes slightly to stabilize the fief as it adjusts to new leadership. There have been a few more bandit attacks in the south, and Ungus intends to increase the number of men-at-arms to deal with the problem.”

“So the Baron died? And now this other man is in charge?” said Will. “Why would that make us not want to go there?”

“Because he made some decisions that are going to make living in Tellwood very hard. Tellwood has a lot of problems with wolves, and hunting keeps their numbers down. Also, if there are more taxes, everything will get more expensive. And there’s bandits too.”

“So we don’t want to go there because it will cost a lot and be dangerous?” said Will.

“Yes.” said Halt. “Every time a Baron dies, things change. Usually they get worse for a little bit before they get better. That’s why it’s probably not a good idea to go there right now.”

“But the other places would be trying to harvest,” said Will. “So which one would you go through.”

“Marborough supplies food to pretty much all of the capitol, so there's a lot of wagons going through. Seacliff on the other hand only does fruit and fish, so it’s less crowded. I would choose Seacliff.”

“But that’s the one I said to go through in the first place!” said Will.

Halt’s eyebrow shot upward. “But did you have a good reason?” he asked.

“No.” admitted Will.

“Next time you come here, bring your wax tablet and I’ll help you practice your writing. That way it won’t get ruined.” said Halt. He didn’t particularly want to help Will read, but… actually he couldn’t think of a reason. He wasn’t sure of a lot when it came to Will.

\----------------------------------------------

“Why are you not at the harvest festival Will?” asked Halt as he unloaded the last of his arrows into the faraway target. Will had just arrived on foot, since very few wagons were going away from Redmont Castle. Most people wanted to go towards it right about then.

“Why are  _ you _ not at the harvest festival Halt?” said Will.

Halt dearly wished Will was his apprentice so he could punish him for that statement. Maybe some nice scrubbing… As it was, there really wasn’t anything he could do to stop the impetuousness. “I’m not at the harvest festival because I’d rather be here. I do have to go to the Baron’s feast this evening, but I’m going to avoid it until I absolutely have to.” said Halt.

“Oh,” said Will. “Is it because everybody’s scared of you?”

Halt glared at him. “No.” he said.

Will tried his hardest to look doubtful and innocent at the same time. It didn’t work well, because Halt knew him, and was perfectly aware that he was a gremlin and therefore evil. Eventually, he had to bow to a superior force though, since for some reason whenever Will looked at him like that, he ended up doing whatever the boy wanted him to.

“Fine. Yes.” he said. “It’s annoying to talk to people who are scared of you.”

Will beamed. “That’s sad” he said, as if it was the happiest proclamation he’d ever made. “But if you’re not going, I guess you’re not getting any of Master Chubb’s pies.”

“That isn’t something to be happy about,” said Halt.

“Nope. It is” said Will. “Because I brought some.” He held up a cloth bag that was bulging with something that smelled very good.

“I thought he didn’t bring those out until at least noon.” said Halt.

“Well…” said Will. “He doesn’t  _ give  _ them to people, but they come  _ out _ a lot earlier than that. He lets them cool by the window.”

“You little thief.” said Halt. “Give those here.”

Will giggled. “What will you give me for them?” he said.

“The privilege of my company?” said Halt, eyebrow raise in full force.

“What about… a knife.” said Will, looking enormously pleased with himself for coming up with such a clever plan to steal one of Halt’s knives. He’d been hankering after them practically since they’d first met, but Halt refused to give him one since he was not a Ranger, and was, in fact, a small boy who was likely to lose it.

“No.” said Halt. Will looked crushed. “I’ll teach you to throw it though.”

Will perked up immediately, and Halt’s plans for the day to go on a long peaceful run while checking his snares in the surrounding forest and then work on smoking the results disappeared like so much mist in the sunlight. “Why don’t we pack up those pies with a couple other foods and some water, and make a day of it.” he said. “We can take Abelard out to a nice stream and you can become filthy to your heart's content.”

Will was practically buzzing with excitement at that point. “Really really? I can ride on Abelard and he won’t make me fall off like you said he would?”

Halt realized then that Will had become privy to a great number of Ranger secrets in the past month and a half. He didn’t let it bother him for long. “I’ll tell you why not, but you have to keep it a secret.” he said.

“Don’t worry,” said Will. “Horace didn’t even believe me when I said I met you. I don’t tell anybody anything.”

Halt was doubtful of that. He had the misfortune to be burdened with the knowledge of every event of Will’s life, related by the boy himself in excruciating detail. Still, Will didn’t exactly seem like he had many other people he’d even want to tell things to. “Good,” said Halt. “You should never tell anybody anything they don’t need to know.”

Will nodded seriously, and Halt knew he would probably follow that advice religiously, just like he did every other direction Halt gave him, besides any directions to please stop talking, go away, or be less impertinent. “Will you tell me Abelard's secret now?” he said, after what he appeared to think was an appropriate amount of time to appreciate the gravitas of Halt’s (dubious) wisdom.

“Every Ranger horse is very special.” began Halt.

“Like how they’re little and don’t have to be tied up?” asked Will.

“Yes.” said Halt. “Among other things, they are very good at recognizing who’s supposed to be riding them. Before you ride him, you have to say a passphrase to make sure he knows you’re supposed to. Once you say it once, he’ll know it’s you forever.”

“Wow.” said Will. “And anybody who doesn’t gets thrown off!” Clearly he was delighted by the prospect.

“Yes.” said Halt. “For Abelard, it is the phrase  _ ‘permettez moi’ _ ”

“Per-met-ese meow?” said Will.

“Permettez moi.” said Halt. “It’s Gallican.”

“Gallican is the people who live in the big square country on the east end of the map, right?” asked Will.

“Yes.” said Halt. “Why don’t you try saying it to Abelard.” Then he whistled for the pony in question who was grazing nearby. While Abelard was on his way, Will practiced his pronunciation several times until he had it exactly right.

Will approached the horse very seriously, which was quite unlike how he usually treated Abelard. Instead of flinging his arms around Abelard's neck and playing with his mane he seemed to be steeling himself for a confrontation. At the very end, he got nervous and turned back to Halt for a second. “Permettez moi?” he asked, probably to ensure he was saying it correctly. Halt reminded himself to teach him basic phrases in the most common languages then mentally hit himself because Will wasn’t his apprentice dammit and he wasn’t going to give himself extra work just because the boy was cute.

“Say it to the horse, not me.” he said, eyebrow raised and with no sign of his internal thoughts. The amusing saying had the desired effect, and Will flushed in embarrassment and then turned to whisper into Abelard's ear.

Once this had been accomplished, things got on rather quickly. Halt saddled Abelard with an efficiency borne of years of experience, pausing only to explain to Will how the process worked, and they soon set off with a bag of food into the forest.

Halt did bring his game bags. Just because Will was determined to ruin all his plans didn’t mean he couldn’t still check his snares.

Their path took them into the forest directly, and Halt scanned their surroundings automatically as Will twisted around in front of him to look at everything from his new higher vantage point. When they reached the location nearest Halt’s first snare, Will’s excitement was too much to contain. “Is this where your trap is? Do you think you trapped a bear? How does it work? Because I think it’s like a rope that grabs things but ropes can’t grab things, and that’s weird.”

“Shh,” said Halt. “I’ll show you how it works when I reset the snare. Now come on.”

Will leapt bodily off of Abelard and on to Halt, then when Halt had finished staggering from the surprise, he descended and walked on as if nothing had happened. Halt added proper dismounting to the list of skills that would make Will less annoying.

“Now, do you know why I set the snare here?” asked Halt, falling back into the long held habit of constant explanations he’d started when he’d taken on Gilan as an apprentice.

Will looked around, and Halt noted with some satisfaction that he did more than a cursory glance at everything before answering. “Is it because of the tiny path?” he asked finally. “If I wanted to find a person I’d look on a road. Maybe this is an animal road.”

“Exactly” said Halt. “Any place where animals go often enough to wear a trail in the underbrush is an excellent place to lay a snare. Now come along, it’s just around that bend.”

Will skipped along in front of him, hopping from clear space to clear space on the trail. “Do you think you caught a bear?” he asked.

“No.” said Halt. “Snares are for small animals. Bears require a proper hunt.”

Will didn’t reply, because they’d arrived at the snare and there was a fat rabbit caught in it. Halt took it down and Will cheered. “We can eat it!” he said. “We can make stew!”

He seemed a little unnecessarily excited about that, but Will was a bit overly enthusiastic about anything Halt did, so Halt simply nodded and then began a slightly headache-inducing tutorial on how to tie a snare without tangling it in Halt’s cloak. Or Halt’s hair. Or Will’s entire body. (How that tangling had happened was something that mystified him.)

When they finished, they repeated the process at the next snare, and then the next, and eventually made it out to a little clearing by a stream where Halt liked to fish sometimes. Will made a beeline for the water, and proceeded to leap between the rocks that poked out of it, nearly falling several times before reaching the other side. When he’d accomplished this, he looked at Halt proudly, obviously expecting some sort of validation for his achievement.

“Don’t fall in,” said Halt.

“I won’t” beamed Will. He then proceeded to fall in.

Once Halt had extracted Will from the stream and wrung the water out of him as best he was able, they sat side by side on Halt’s cloak and shared the bag of pies. Abelard came over to investigate, but Halt sent him off with an apple and a pat on the head.

“You owe me a lesson,” said Will, once most of the pies had been demolished. (There was just enough for lunch tomorrow if Will didn’t get to it first.)

“Hmm.” said Halt. He was laid out on top of his cloak and feeling rather like a cat in the sun--sleepy and satisfied.

Will poked him in the side. “Knives.” he said.

“In a bit.” said Halt. “I’m busy.”

Will sighed, and then flopped bodily onto Halt’s chest. He was still slightly damp, but Halt wasn’t moved by his dramatics.

“Enjoy the sunshine,” he said. “We’ll throw knives in a bit.”

There was a nice peaceful silence for a while. At first Will made a token effort to protest consisting of a noise of impatience every couple of minutes, but eventually he fell into a soft slumber. It was that sort of afternoon.

Almost of its own accord Halt’s hand came up to Will’s head resting on his chest. He ran his fingers through Will’s silky hair, and Will made a sleepy noise of contentment.

“I’m going soft.” he muttered.

Really, he should have known that by now. Gil had stripped any edges he might have once had off of him almost as soon as they’d met, and Will had burrowed into his heart with a cheerful disregard for any of his desires.

“Brat.” he said.

Abelard looked at him with an expression of fierce judgement. Halt glared back.

“I know you like him better than you ever liked me, but he’s still a brat.” he said.

Abelard’s whole manner became one of doubt.

“Stolen pies, Abelard. Only a brat would do that.”

Abelard conceded the point. Halt still felt like he’d lost the argument.

About an hour later, Halt was mostly finished napping, and he knew he’d need to be up to the Baron’s feast in a couple hours. If they wanted to throw knives today it would need to happen soon.

“Will,” he said, poking him in the side. Will had somehow gotten heavier as he slept, and had begun to exude warmth like a tiny bonfire. “Will, it’s time to wake up.”

Will grumbled sleepily.

“Do you want to throw knives or not?” said Halt.

After that, Will regained consciousness with remarkable speed.

\----------------------------------------------

They got in late and Halt ended up missing most of the Baron’s feast, getting Will back to the orphanage of the Baron’s wards and tucked safely into bed. Arald, always a considerate friend, pulled him aside near the end of it to ask what it was all about.

“Halt.” he said quietly, “Is something wrong in the fief?”

Halt raised an eyebrow at him. “Should there be?” he asked back.

Arald leveled a Look on him. “You were late.” he said, “You’re never late unless it’s something important. And you look like you’re mulling something over.”

Halt frowned slightly. He was, in fact, mulling something over, but it was none of Arald's business. “It’s not the fief.” he said.

“Then you admit it’s something.” returned Arald.

Halt glared at him.

“Who is it then?” asked Arald. “Pauline, Gilan, or Crowley?”

Halt glared at him some more. “What makes you think it was a person?” he asked.

“I know you,” said Arald. “You’re infuriatingly tight-lipped about everything, but you’re only this bad about two things--the King’s business, and people problems. And I haven’t done anything egregiously annoying recently so it’s either Pauline, Gilan or Crowley. Is Gilan settling well in his new assignment?”

Halt seized on the conversation changer. “He is. Quite well, I might add. Avebury fief has experienced a marked decrease in smuggling since his arrival. I was a bit concerned--you know his disguise work is a bit less than ideal so I was worried when he ended up in a fief with so much intrigue--but he’s really bloomed. His last report mentioned several new contacts.”

Even though he wasn’t generally talkative, Halt was capable of speaking at length about Gilan at any time. He was quite proud of how the boy had grown up. He was an excellent Ranger and an even better man.

Arald proved not to be impressed. “I didn’t expect any less from him.” he said. “You trained him well. So, if it isn’t him you’re worrying about then who is it; Pauline or Crowley?”

“I’m not worried about them,” said Halt. “They’re both busy being diplomatic in various locales, and they’re both quite capable of taking care of themselves.”

“It’s like squeezing water from a stone.” said Arald to absolutely nobody. He turned on Halt with his stubbornest expression. “I’m going to get it out of you one way or another, and I’d be happy to help with it if I can, so it’s really in your best interest to cooperate.”

If Halt had been a lesser man he might have slumped in defeat. As it was, he pursed his lips and tried to come up with a way to explain Will.

When he’d returned him to his proper spot in the world, he’d noticed a few things that weren’t quite right and made sense of some others. He’d never considered it, but the amount of freedom Will had to wander off at all hours of the day was rather unusual, and the fact that no alarms were ever raised even when he pulled such a stunt of sleeping on Halt’s porch so he could greet him when he came back after a long patrol was somewhat concerning.

When asked, Will just said that Matron Mora ‘gave up’ eventually, but whether that meant giving up on controlling Will, or giving up on him entirely was yet to be seen. Either way, the ward-house was terribly understaffed and a bit overcrowded with the orphans of the last war, and though Will’s age group had only five, they were from the tail end of it when fewer children had been born anyway. Other years had as many as fifteen, and it left the house with an average of twelve children to every worker--far too many for the workers to be able to pay attention to all of them.

Arald was still looking on expectantly, so Halt gave in to the inevitable. “There’s a child. He follows me around. It’s irritating.”

That seemed to leave Arald properly on the back foot. “A child? Where the hell did you acquire a child?”

“He just sort of… showed up one day.” said Halt.

“Showed up.” said Arald disbelievingly. “You mean someone willingly approached you and then didn’t leave immediately after exposure to your…” he gestured vaguely at Halt, who raised an eyebrow, “personality?” He finally finished. “Air of disdain maybe? Don’t know how to describe but you really aren’t the most personable man.”

Halt glared at him, and he smirked. “Case in point.” He said. “I still have no idea how you manage to loom threateningly, though, seeing as you’re a good half a foot shorter than me.”

Halt’s glare intensified. By then the other people in the room were unconsciously edging away, leaving a large bubble of space around them. “If you’re going to be like that I’ll just not tell you.” said Halt. He followed that statement with a rather anticlimactic heel turn, melting into the crowd because Halt did not do such things as storming out or making a scene.

Besides, Will might be a little unsupervised, but he was quite self sufficient, and there wasn’t really anything Halt could do anyway.

————————————

“Will.” said Halt firmly.

Will looked up at him, teary eyes wide, and snot everywhere. He might be an abnormally adorable child, but there was nothing pretty about the aftermath of a meltdown. “I’m sorry” said Will hoarsely. His fingers fiddled with the bandage freshly wrapped around his arm, and Halt sighed, smoothing it back down.

“I know,” he said. “And I know you won’t make that mistake again, but you really should listen to me. I can tell you what not to do in a way that’s much less painful than experience.”

Will melted, and Halt’s options were limited to awkwardly propping him up or gathering him into his lap, and the latter came as easy as breathing. “I just wanted to be like you.” He said miserably.

“Mastery takes time Will. You won’t learn it all in a day, and you won’t do well at all alone.”

Will sniffled. “I’m trying my best.” He said. “I want to get better, but I’m very bad.”

“You’re just a beginner.” said Halt. “It’ll come.”

Will shook his head. “Not the knives. I mean to be good. I want to for you. I just can’t. Matron Mora says so.”

“Oh?” asked Halt.

Will was silent for several moments, and Halt gently nudged him. “What does Mora say?” He asked.

“I am very bad at being good.” Said Will. “She said I might as well be a changeling, on account of my wildness. And I try very hard, but I see things and then I want to know about them and then everything gets worse.”

Halt sighed again. “I don’t think so.” he said. “You’re a very good boy.”

“Then why do I keep messing up?” asked Will.

Halt took a second to think. The knife incident hadn’t been the first. As the harvest season had left him with even less supervision and the world got colder, limiting his mobility, Will had gotten a bit stir-crazy. He’d been caned just last week by the Matron for nearly burning down the orphanage, and had at different points accidentally poisoned himself, given Abelard a ‘haircut’, ruined most of Halts stock of bowstrings, and committed a myriad of other bits of inconvenient mischief and near death experiences. Halt was trying his hardest, but it was impossible to keep an eye on Will at all times, and difficult to know how to discipline him when he wasn’t Halt’s and had no frame of reference for punishment beyond being caned. The closest he’d come was an intensive set of lessons on what not to eat in the forest, but those were something Will actively wanted in the aftermath of his near poisoning.

“I think.” said Halt finally, slowly, “that you don’t have anything to do. And because you don’t, you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

Will was silent for a long time. “What am I supposed to do then?” He asked, anguished.

Halt wondered briefly why he was about to do this because he really wasn’t obligated to, and didn’t particularly want to, but then he looked down at the boy still curled up in his lap and remembered that he really did. “Well first of all,” said Halt, “If you can still mess up with knives that badly then I haven’t taught you nearly enough.”

Will perked up and Halt smiled on the inside. He was actually fairly good with a throwing knife, but attempting a new kind like the saxe alone was a recipe for disaster. “It’s not going to happen until you heal up, of course.” said Halt. “Until then I’m afraid you’re not going to do anything fun.”

Will wilted, and Halt continued. “And with the harvest cutting lessons short you’ve fallen far behind on your reading. And your arithmetic is nigh nonexistent.”

Will gaped in horror. “But Halt! I’m injured.” He said holding up his right arm in demonstration.

Halt wanted to laugh at him, but looking stern was necessary in these sorts of situations, so he merely flicked Will on the nose. “I know for a fact you can use the other hand just fine.” he said. “And you don’t need hands at all to read.”

Will made indignant noises, but Halt was unmoved. Actually, he felt surprisingly solid in his choices. Resigning himself to the cramped schedule he’d kept when he’d had Gil just to teach a little boy how to read was a shockingly easy choice to make. He wondered if he should see a healer for that. He might have been hit on the head.

Then again, if supervision and activity could keep them away from another near orphanage fire, then Halt was doing the world a service. It was practically his duty as a Ranger to keep the fief away from this particular bored child.

That didn’t mean he really wanted to teach the boy to read though. (He would much rather teach him to shoot, but that likely wouldn’t happen until after the spring thaw and Will’s next growth spurt)

\---------

Halt didn’t really make a practice of emoting. His implacable expression was camouflage just as much as his cloak, and it really wasn’t anybody’s business what was under it.

Still, sometimes it was hard not to smile when he was around Will.

Since he’d semi-officially taken him on, Will had blossomed. It had only been a couple months, harvest passing them by nearly ignored and days shortening as the year turned towards midwinter, but already the child seemed… not calmer, but more settled in himself. The jittery agitation was gone, and what was left was an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and one of the sharpest minds Halt had ever seen.

Will wasn’t necessarily the best at the more sedate parts of education (Halt despaired of his arithmetic), but every bit of knowledge that Halt imparted on him in the field seemed to sink in like Will was nothing more than a lump of clay to be molded. Halt doubted another practice injury would ever occur with the knives, or another poisoning. Will wasn’t one to repeat his mistakes, and he was quickly soaking up every lesson that Halt could give him. He could even see it in the way the boy moved.

He wouldn’t be giving him a cloak just yet, but even without one Will was swaying into just the right shadows to minimize his silhouette, and Halt hadn’t heard a single footstep from him in over a week even though they’d been roaming the surrounding area nearly every day, wandering and learning just like they were at that very moment.

After a particularly good navigation of some loose rocks, Halt had to give in, and smiled broader than he had in a long while--what might be a slight quirk of the lips on another man. “Well done.” he said softly.

His… the boy grinned at him over his shoulder, and Halt nodded back to him. He’d found that Will needed a rather larger helping of verbal praise than Gil had ever needed, probably because of his younger age, and Halt was willing to oblige for now.

Will had done quite well, after all.

When they returned to the cabin, Halt made dinner, and briefly wondered where Will would be sleeping. He wasn’t really the boy's keeper, but he knew that Will sometimes didn’t bother to return to the ward-house either, sleeping in the stable or on the porch. He wondered if it would be terribly inappropriate to offer him Gilan’s old room. In the end, he stayed his tongue, still unsure whether it could leave him accused of kidnapping. And whether Will would want it. He submitted readily to Halt’s instruction, but he remained a bit cagey about some things and Halt rather thought he was a little afraid of anything permanent, no matter how good.

It was a matter that would require thought.

\---------

Will had a mission.

Since Halt had started teaching him stuff, he’d learned a lot about different things, but one of the ones Halt was biggest on was planning. He had to plan journeys on maps, figure out what stuff to bring places, who to talk to to find out stuff, and how to complete missions. Like Will’s mission. Which he’d given himself, and now had to plan. And if he planned it really well, it would totally work. And then Halt would be proud of him, and maybe would smile at him or give him a hug.

Or maybe he wouldn’t, because the mission was sort of against him in the first place, but if it worked Will would get to go places with Halt and Abelard which was almost as good as Halt being proud.

The first step, obviously, after making a plan with all the steps, was to acquire all the necessary supplies. Will had most of them ready, but some of them were behind closed (and locked) doors. This did not dissuade Will in the slightest. Most of the time, if he couldn’t do something it was because he just didn’t know how yet, and Halt always did. So he just had to learn how to pick locks. Which meant he needed to make Halt teach him how to pick locks.

Then he could steal the bribe and other supplies, have everything prepared, and Halt would have no reason not to take him on his patrol.

So, the first attempt. He’d just ask Halt. If that didn’t work, then he’d come up with arguments for it. And if  _ that _ didn’t work, he’d employ subterfuge.

“Halt,” he asked, “Will you teach me how to pick locks?”

They had just finished another lesson on field-craft, roaming around the woods for edible (and poisonous) plants, and looking at animal tracks, and Halt was nice and relaxed, so it was an optimal time to make requests.

Halt raised an eyebrow, after a moment of consideration.

Will took that as a question. “I just think it’s an important skill is all.” he said. “You’re always telling me how to get around the woods, but I want to be able to get around the town too. I’m good at climbing, but sometimes there’s doors and windows. Which are inconev--incev--in-con-ven-i-ent.”

“Don’t steal anything too valuable.” said Halt.

“Of course not.” said Will, “It’s easier to just ask you.”

Halt sighed very slightly. “Do you know how locks work?” he asked.

Will frowned. “No.” he said.

“Let’s put away what we’ve gathered, and then we will start there.”

Will grinned. He hadn’t had to employ subterfuge after all. Really, he hadn’t expected to. Halt was shockingly easy to get things from. Unlike Matron Mora, all Will had to do was ask, and have what Halt would consider to be a good reason.

———

“Halt Halt Halt Halt Halt Halt Halt Halt Halt Halt”

“No,” said Halt.

Will pouted from his perch on the stool by Halt’s bed. “You didn’t even let me finish.” he whined.

“It’s the middle of the night.” said Halt, “And that means the only thing I’ll get up for is an emergency, or one of my friends.”

“You don’t have any friends.” said Will, the gremlin, “Nobody likes you.”

Halt contemplated glaring, but decided against it since he’d have to open his eyes. That would aggravate the hangover he’d acquired the night before. “Why are you even in my house?” he asked. “How did you get in here?”

Will scoffed. “I’ve been here for a while,” he said, “But that’s besides the point. Sunrise is in two hours--so it’s already morning--and I wanted to catch you before you left on patrol.”

Halt finally cracked open his eyes, and took a moment to bitterly regret his life choices. He’d invented a patrol as a method of having a Will-free few days during which he intended to hide in the woods where the boy couldn’t find him, and had actually planned to sleep in for once instead of leaving at the normal time for patrols which was an hour before dawn. Alas, it appeared he’d be leaving early after all, and if the travelling pack Will had dumped at his bedside was anything to judge by, he wouldn’t be alone.

“I hate you.” he said finally.

Will screwed up his face--Halt wasn’t sure what he was attempting--and then sighed, giving up. “I won’t share breakfast with you then. And I brought the good stuff too.”

“Good stuff?” asked Halt. He normally cooked for himself, but Will lived adjacent to the castle kitchens and possessed a pair of enormous, pleading brown eyes capable of parting many innocent kitchen hands from the fine foods they guarded. He was also agile, light fingered, and perfectly capable of picking locks (yet another terrible choice on Halt’s part--on the one hand it was a useful skill, but on the other Will didn’t have the morality or sense that the universe gave to a weasel), but Halt normally ignored that fact when it came to food because in a contest between morality and Master Chubb's cooking, Master Chubb always came out on top.

“What did you bring?” He asked.

Will grinned in victory. “Some weird cheese rolls, ham, and a bag of the good coffee the Baron had brought from Arrida.”

Halt’s eyes widened. “That is the good stuff.”

“It’s a bribe!” Exclaimed Will proudly.

“You’re a horrible, manipulative creature.” said Halt. “And you planned ahead.”

“Yes!” Will beamed, and Halt sighed.

“That is… surprisingly well thought out.”

This made Will preen, and Halt suffered from the simultaneous desire to berate him for ruining Halt’s plans and compliment him on his cunning. It didn’t seem major at first glance, but Halt was guessing this plan was the impetus for the lock picking lessons, and Arald didn’t exactly advertise when he’d be shipping in luxuries.

In the end pride won out. “Very clever of you, you guessed my price exactly.”

“Does that mean I get to come?” asked Will, slightly shy.

Halt glared at him. “I was planning on leaving late today and sleeping a little extra.” he said. “Don’t bother me until a half hour after sunrise. At least.”

Somehow, that was interpreted as an invitation to climb in Halt’s bed and snuggle.

\-------------------------

“Ease off a little bit Will. Abelard knows what he’s doing.”

“Ok. Hey! We should jump over that log”

“No. No Will, No ABELARD.”

“...That was fun.”

“Will.” said Halt, knuckles white where they were clenched against the saddle.

“Yes Halt?”

“No more jumping or the lesson stops.”

Will looked hurt, slumping into Halt from his place on the front of the saddle, and Halt was briefly tempted to inform him that he’d had perfect jumping form. That kind of indulgence, however, was what had led to this patrol from hell, so he stayed strong. “Let's go back to the camp and we can practice going around  _ smaller _ obstacles.”

“But that’s boring! I know that!”

“Without reins.” said Halt.

Will still seemed skeptical, but he had been unimpressed with the fact that he needed reins while Halt didn’t, so he relented. “Okay.”

\------------------------------

When they arrived home, after a four day meander about the edges of the fief, Will was asleep. He’d wilted into Halt’s chest, and Halt had ended up steering mostly with his legs, occupied with keeping the sleeping boy from falling off. Dismounting proved difficult, but in the end, Halt found himself standing in front of his house and holding a small boy he had no idea what to do with.

Abelard snorted with derision and nudged him towards the house.

“It’s not like he’s a horse Abelard, I can’t stable him anywhere.”

Abelard applied his best stink eye to the problem, accompanied by a dramatic head roll.

“Of course I’m not carrying him to the orphanage! What kind of suggestion is that.” hissed Halt, still determined not to wake his precious burden.

For that, Halt was regarded with the same expression one might turn towards a recalcitrant (and stupid) child getting in the way of their own best interests.

“Not appreciated.” said Halt, stalking (smoothly, so as to not wake Will) towards the cabin.

Abelard nickered in victory, and Halt resolved not to feed him any treats when he came back out to rub him down.

He’d put new sheets in Gilan’s old room recently anyway.


End file.
